day twenty-eight: here it comes again

Tonight I read a post from a friend of mine that I have never met in person, although in my mind's eye she is beautiful and has a happy smile and warm demeanor. She has boys. Her boys are blond and blue-eyed and little, and mine are brunette (except for my one redhead) and brown-eyed and getting bigger by the day. But for some reason her reflections on raising her boys and the nostalgia she already feels really hit me- right in the chest, where it kind of stayed for awhile.

Today I had one of those flashbacks where my little boy was sitting near his bed in our one-bedroom apartment in Los Angeles, about 19 years ago. He had two plastic milk crates that held his toys, which included cars, balls, and a red plastic fireman hat that he would wear all over the place. The wallpaper was striped and he had pictures of scriptural figures on the wall for inspiration. I can see him there looking up at me and babbling away, like he always did. My little chatter box.

That's all. Nothing deep or profound. Just my home movies running in my head. And I use my sleeve to clean my eyes.


Connie | September 16, 2009 at 6:16 AM

I love the home movies that run through my head. Takes me back to a time, that in my mind, seems almost perfect, although, at the time, I didn't feel that.
(does that make sense?)

Marianne | September 16, 2009 at 9:12 AM


Kimberly Vanderhorst | September 16, 2009 at 1:31 PM

Yeah, I'm all sniffly now. It doesn't take much to help nostalgia (even pre-emptive nostalgia) to kick in.

Midge | September 16, 2009 at 1:56 PM